


Two Wings Don’t Make a Flight or Sixteen Nefarious Acts Before Bed

by Ragazza_Guasto



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Humor, Nefarious Deeds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragazza_Guasto/pseuds/Ragazza_Guasto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wexford?” She asked, scrunching her nose. “What sort of Faerie name is that?”<br/>“A good, strong one! What’s yours? Annoying, bothersome chit?” He guessed rudely. She was fairly sure it was a he. It was quite hard to tell.<br/>“No! My name is Alison. Alison Virginia Margery McCleery,” she professed regally. The Faerie moved closer.<br/>“You look more like a Nelson to me.”<br/>Alison spit indignantly. “I do not!”<br/>“Do so.”<br/>“Do not!”<br/>“Do so! You have more mud and grass on half your person than a pig ought to on its entirety.”<br/>“Why you! If I had half a mind, I’d flick you right off this rock.”<br/>“It’s a good thing you don’t have half a mind then, eh?” He gave a tiny Faerie version of a snort and slapped his knee.<br/>“Perhaps I will flick you off this rock,” she threatened, fingers pressed together menacingly. The Fay creature danced away from her hand. “As I thought. I may be small for a human but I’m still bigger than you.”</p><p> </p><p>A young English miss befriends a Faerie. Together they reek havoc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Wings Don’t Make a Flight or Sixteen Nefarious Acts Before Bed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short piece I did a few years back. I've never shared it before. This seemed like a good place to keep it.

 

Alison McCleery was taking a much needed walk in the garden of her country home in Bristol when she came upon a strange sight. She picked up her skirts and began following a shimmering and iridescent trail of light that spread out along the grass. It wound all throughout the garden, past the fountain, past the drive and out towards the small stream that bordered her father’s property with the Smithson’s. Eventually the trail ended at an outcropping of stone where the stream gurgled loudest. The spot was a favorite of hers. Whenever Mrs. Bottom caught her snatching papers off her father’s desk to hide, she would run away as quickly as she could manage and make hast to the safety of the rocks. Mrs. Bottom was deathly afraid of any source of water and Alison was quick to use this against her. In fact, it was Mrs. Bottom who had run Alison from the house this morning in the first place. Skipping lessons with Mr. Delphini and stealing treats from the kitchen were among the many crimes perpetrated already that day. She counted each and every one of them before she went to sleep each night. Four so far today. As for the shimmery trail that led to nowhere, she hadn’t the foggiest idea of it’s meaning. Snails and other slimy creatures didn’t leave such a wide berth in their travels. Unless perhaps there were a pack of them. Did snails travel in packs? She tapped her pointed chin in thought. The puzzle had caught her interest and she wouldn’t let go until it was solved. She knelt down, uncaring about getting her cream colored skirts dirty, and examined the trail closely. The substance appeared powdery, instead of the slime one would expect, so she swiped a finger through it. She rubbed her fingers together and watched as whatever it was disappeared into the pours of her skin.

“Why don’t you commission a portrait? Then you could study at your leisure,” a tiny voice spoke from beyond the rocks. She looked around but saw no one. A mystery!

“Who’s there?” She called out hoping to receive an answer. A squeak could be heard over the sound of the babbling brook.

“Oi, I say! You can hear me?” The voice responded.

“Of course I can hear you. What a silly thing to say.” She stood to get a better look among the tall rocks.

“Mighty rude of you, I say. Most humans know better than to listen in to the Fay realm.”

She stopped her attempt at climbing the rocks. “Fay realm, you said? What are you alluding to, Mystery Voice?”

“Be gone, human. This is none of your concern.” The voice grew louder as she climbed atop the highest of the rocks. Upon reaching the top she slid belly first over the lip of the stone. She searched for the source of the voice, concluding that the barer must be small indeed to be so well hidden.

“Show yourself, Mystery Voice. I’ll not be frightened away by a voice alone,” she braved.

“Oi! I’m as corporal as the next fellow,” the voice said. Just then a tiny speck of a thing appeared in front of her nose. She lost her balance for the briefest second but quickly righted herself before she rolled bum over tea kettle off the side of the big rock. The being was shining brightly in the morning sunlight, so much so that she could barely make out what she saw. Miss Baker from the village had an old book depicting the various forms of Fay and Angels. This being looked strikingly like the pictures of Faeries she had seen. As she stared its glow dimmed enough to make out a tiny human like creature, clothed in a rough, hand sewn vest and trouser combination.

“Are you a Faerie, Mystery Voice?” She asked, poking a finger toward the tiny thing. It backed up away from the intrusion.

“As far as you’re concerned, I suppose. And my name isn’t Mystery Voice. It’s Wexford.”

“Wexford?” She asked, scrunching her nose. “What sort of Faerie name is that?”

“A good, strong one! What’s yours? Annoying, bothersome chit?” He guessed rudely. She was fairly sure it was a he. It was quite hard to tell.

“No! My name is Alison. Alison Virginia Margery McCleery,” she professed regally. The Faerie moved closer.

“You look more like a Nelson to me.”

Alison spit indignantly. “I do not!”

“Do so.”

“Do not!”

“Do so! You have more mud and grass on half your person than a pig ought to on its entirety.”

“Why you! If I had half a mind, I’d flick you right off this rock.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have half a mind then, eh?” He gave a tiny Faerie version of a snort and slapped his knee.

“Perhaps I will flick you off this rock,” she threatened, fingers pressed together menacingly. The Fay creature danced away from her hand. “As I thought. I may be small for a human but I’m still bigger than _you_.”

“If I wasn’t suffering from two broken wings, I’d show you what for. I’m at a disadvantage at the moment is all,” he admitted. She forgot all about her indignation over his taunting.

“What happened to your wings?” She asked, noticing for the first time that yes, his wings did seem to be hanging crookedly from his back.

“Well,” he said and seemed to sit in anticipation for a long tale. She rested her chin on her hands, feet waved in the air behind her. “I was on duty at your fine estate.”

“On duty? You’re employed by my father?” She asked bemused by the idea.

“No, tiny Alison, I am employed by the Unseelie Court.”

“Oh, I love the Unseelie Court the best! They get to have all the fun.” She grinned.

“Yes, well, as I was saying, I was sent to work the McCleery Estate. I was just doing a routine Cream Spoiling job when I had a run-in with that dreadful orange tabby in the kitchen.”

“Maximus?”

“Could have been. Great big, hulking fellow?”

“Yes, that’d be him. He was the biggest of the stable kittens born last year. He muscled his way into the house and now Cook can’t get rid of him.” She giggled.

“He must have known what I was about, for as soon as I flew into the pantry, drill at the ready, he pounced. Broke both my wings, the bleedin-,” he paused.

“You can say it. I’m nine, I’m not a child.”

“Just as well, I have far too many clever phrases in place where that feline is concerned.”

“How did you get away?” She asked, entranced by his story.

“The cook arrived in a timely manner, wielding a broom  no less, and chased the orange terror away. I climbed out through a mouse hole.” She giggled uncontrollably picturing Cook chasing Maximus away as usual, unaware of the Faerie in her midst.

“So did you walk all this way from the kitchen? That’s a long way for such a tiny fellow.”

“Took me eleven human hours to get this far but yes. I tried hitching a ride with a squirrel but the mate was all out of charity today.” Alison couldn’t tell if he was pulling her leg so she kept quiet about that. “I’m plum out of ideas at this point in the juncture. Not only did I fail to get the job done I can’t even get back to report my failure.”

“I can help," she offered, excited at the thought of helping Wexford with his mission.

“What could you do?” He asked, clearly unconvinced of her ability to do anything of note.

“I can help you finish your job, for one. And I can take you to your Sidhe, where ever it may be. As long as I’m back by dinnertime.”

“I don’t know. You’re awfully small for a human. What sort of nefarious deeds could you accomplish before dinnertime?”

She laughed evilly. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’ve accomplished four nefarious deeds already today. I’m confident I can raise that number exponentially by dinnertime. My record is sixteen nefarious deeds before bed,” she bragged.

“Sixteen, eh? Well, don’t let me stand in your way. Let us to the kitchen.” He stood and tugged gently on her finger. She flipped her hand over and he climbed atop her palm. The little Fay couldn't have weighed any more than the quill she used for writing lessons.

“Would you mind terribly if you rode in my pocket, Wexford? I’d hate for Mrs. Bottom to ask what I had in my hand and you be discovered.”

“If you think it best. Just don’t jostle me.” He hung onto her finger as she slid him gently into her skirt pocket.

“Alright in there?” She called down.

“Snug as a bug,” he called back.

“I have some bugs in there if you get bored.” She had picked up a few on her foray through the garden.

“Ah, yes. Yummy, don’t mind if I do.” There was a distinct crunching coming from her pocket now. She ignored it as she slid as gently as possible down from the rock. The walk back from the stream took twice as long as usual, as she was doing her very best not to jostle Wexford, but eventually she made it round to the back of the house to the kitchen. The door was open to let the heat of the ovens out and she took advantage by slipping through silently, crossing quickly over to the pantry so as not to be seen by Peters, Cook’s assistant. The pantry was fairly large, as the manor fed a lot of people, but she had hid here enough times to know her way around. The dairy crocks were kept below with the meats. She made her way down the stairs toward the clay crockery that held all the milk, cream and cheese for the entire household.

“Which crock were you going for, Wexford?” She called out. He managed to pull himself up out of her pocket to hang over and get a peek at the clay pots.

“All of them really,” he answered.

“All of them? But there are six at least. You want me to drill holes in all six?”

“If you would.” He looked up at her. She huffed but bent to grab a knife from a nearby box of cutlery.

“You’re lucky I haven’t the slightest need for cream or I wouldn’t be risking this.” She went to work, twisting the end of the knife to and fro into the pot. Wexford shifted restlessly in her pocket. After barely a minute of huffing and wiggling she set the knife down, scooped him out of her pocket and distributed him atop the table in front of her.

“Much better,” he acknowledged. She set about drilling again as he paced the length of the table. “I couldn’t convince you to sneak a bit of bread, could I? I’d kill for a beetle sandwich.”

She looked at him, incredulous. “Greedy Fay, I’m risking extra work studies just being in the pantry.”

“Then what’s the harm in stealing a bit of bread?” He asked.

She gave him an angry growl. “Fine!” She stomped back up the stairs, creeping silently along the wall until she spotted a loaf Cook had set out. She grabbed the whole thing before anyone could catch her and flew back down the steps. Wexford gapped at her, hands on his hips, when she slapped the mountain sized loaf in front of him.

“I couldn’t possibly eat the whole thing. That could feed my whole family!” He walked up to it, touching it gingerly. “It’s still warm.” He wrapped his arms around it. Alison giggled at him.

“You might as well eat what you can. I’ll carry the rest with me when I drop you off later.” She set about drilling once again whist Wexford peeled pieces off the loaf, sandwiching the beetle between the bread. He hummed greedily as he ate and she couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Wexford?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled back, mouth full.

“You said you have a family. How are you going to feed them if you can’t fly to work?” He set down his sandwich at her question.

“I’ll be fine. The wings should heel on their own before long. And the bread will keep us well stocked for some time. I am much appreciative of it.” He sounded like he had never thanked anyone before, like the words were unfamiliar. “And with your help with the cream.”

“Not a problem, tiny Wexford,” she said, thrilled to not be the smallest for once. “So, tell me about your family. Do you have many children?” She moved from the first croak to the second.

“Children? Me? No, no. Brothers and sisters. My father was killed in the War, and my mother is busy at home with the youngest, so my brothers and I help out.”

  
“The War? A Faerie War?” She asked, intrigued.

“Aye. Twas most bloody. The two courts went to War over the Severn, I can’t remember which side started, they’ve fought for so many seasons who can keep count? My father was always coming and going from battle, it’s a wonder my mother had twenty three children. Course Matildie has the red hair of a Sprite, so who knows if we’re all his, eh?” Alison snickered at him. “He died two seasons ago, a sword through the chest.” He picked up his sandwich and continued to eat.

“How terribly exciting.” She whipped her head towards him. “I mean dreadful.”

“Oh, it’s all right. It was terribly exciting. I would have gone with him to fight but Mother insisted I stay home and help with the brood. Being the oldest of twenty three is terribly tedious. I’d have loved to relieve the boredom of feedings and bedtime stories with blood and glory but, alas, it was not to be. The Queen took Severn last harvest and the War was over. Now it’s off to the daily grind of Cream Spoiling and Stealing Keys. Not exactly battle worthy but it’s better than chasing mites and it pays.”

“You had quite a scare today though, doing battle with Maximus.”

“That is true. I live to see another day,” he said and held up the remains of his beetle sandwich in toast. She smiled.

“Twenty three siblings,” she mused. “What must that be like?”

“I’ll tell you what it’s like: Horrifying. All day, from dawn till dusk, nothing but crying. And they always need something, food, milk, another story, another pair of shoes. Ugh,” he growled.

“I think it would be nice to be surrounded by siblings. I’m an only child myself.” She quickly tired from drilling and set her knife in her lap to rest. Two down, four to go.

“But your time is your own. That is something I would kill for.”

She snorted in a manner that Mrs. Bottom would call ‘unladylike’. “My time is not my own. Far from it. I am constantly running away from lessons, getting yelled at by staff. I hate it.”

“How do you find time for sixteen nefarious deeds before bed if you’re constantly running from lessons?”

“I make time. I won’t be made into some simpering miss just because I had the misfortune of being born a girl. My father doesn’t have time for a girl child and my mother is worried for her Furrier more than her own offspring.” She stabbed at the third clay pot a tad sharp.

“So you have run of the house, creating havoc in the name of feminine rebellion? Sounds fun to me.”

“I act out for attention,” she glared at the crock, chipping away at the clay angrily.

Wexford hummed in thought. “You are wise beyond your years, young Alison. I think I’ll let you off the hook for now, you can stop stabbing the crock. Three should suffice.”

She looked up at him. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, three out of six isn’t bad. This bounty of bread should help pay for the unfinished job.”

“Alright,” she said. She wiped her hands off on the hem of her skirt and shifted the pile of clay dust under the table with her foot. After setting the knife back down she held her hand out for Wexford to step into. With the Faerie tucked snug into her pocket and the bread rapped in cheese cloth and shoved into a basket, she sneaked silently back out of the kitchens with no one the wiser.

“Now, how far is it to your Sidhe?”

“I couldn’t rightly explain in human terms. Let’s see, do you know the way to the Mendips?”

“Of course. I go there occasionally with my parents. When they have a need to be seen as a family amongst others, that is.” She kicked a pebble petulantly.

“Well, if you can get me there, I can find my way. Is it far for a human?”

“No, not very far. If I can convince Mr. Hastings to saddle my pony we could be there before dinner. I won’t be missed until then, if I’m lucky.”

“I’d be ever so grateful if you could. I was in quite a conundrum on how to cross the stream when you came along. What luck I have today, eh?”

“Well, if you hadn’t run into Maximus then you wouldn’t have had need of me,” she reasoned.

“I count myself lucky that I did. Who knows when I might have need of a friend who can accomplish sixteen nefarious deeds before bed?”

“Indeed,” she quipped. On the way to the stable they encountered Maximus strutting away from his post in the hay. He hissed at her and she stomped after him just long enough to scare him far away from Wexford.

“Miss Ali, what do ye think yer doin’?” Mr. Hastings, a Scotsman and her father’s stable Master called out to her. He was a good looking man who was quick to help anyone in a bind. She hoped he was feeling charitable today.

“Keep quiet, Wexford, I’m going to acquire our transportation,” she whispered down from the corner of her mouth.

“Can do,” she heard from deep in her pockets. She gave Mr. Hastings her sweetest smile as she approached.

“Hello Mr. Hastings. I was thinking, it is such a lovely day, why not take Felicity out for a quick stroll? I have a picnic planned.” She showed him the basket.

“Now, I don’t know about that Miss Ali. Yer not dressed for it. And Mrs. Bottom doesn’t like ye to be out by yerself on yer pony.” He hitched his thumbs into the loops of his trousers, shifting back and forth on his boots as he looked down at her.

“It wouldn’t be but for a little while Mr. Hastings. Pretty please,” she begged, eyes wide.

“I am sorry. It’s not worth losing my job over. Come back with yer riding habit and Mrs. Bottom and I’ll have ye saddled and ready to go.”

Alison lost her patience. She dropped the smile. “Listen Tom,” she growled, “I have somewhere I have to be. You’re the only thing stopping me from getting there. If I could saddle Felicity myself I wouldn't have even have bothered with asking. Now, if you want to keep your job, you’ll help me saddle her and keep your mouth about it." He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "Or I’m telling Father just how often I catch Mother sneaking out here after dinner.” Mr. Hastings couldn’t have looked more aghast if she had slapped him with a Cod and called him out for wearing women’s petticoats. His mouth opened, closed and then opened again before he got a word out.

“She comes to talk about the horses,” he lied. Wexford snickered in her pocket.

“And so does the Queen. I might be young but I’m not daft. Now, saddle my horse Tom.” He took a step out of her way when she passed. Felicity snickered from her stall as Alison approached. Mr. Hastings unlocked the paddock and pulled her from the stall. She watched as he pulled her side saddle from the wall. It would take forever if she were restricted by the contraption.

“I’d like to sit astride, Mr. Hastings. Grab Thomas’s saddle.” Thomas was her father’s Tiger. Tom turned to gape at her.

“That’s much too dangerous by yerself. I can’t allow it.”

“You know I’m a capable enough rider. Just do it.” She flicked her wrist.

“But Miss Ali-,” he started to argue.

“’Father, I saw Mother hugging Mr. Hastings in the barn last night, like how the sheep hug each other in the springtime,’” she used her most child-like voice. Tom glared at her, assessing her seriousness. She cocked an eyebrow, daring him to defy her.

“I should have listened to Mrs. Bottom when she said ye were a little demon. ‘No,' I said. 'An angel’, I said. Stupid.” He mumbled more obscenities before her pony was saddled. He lifted her up and set her atop roughly, she heard Wexford grunt. She hoped his wings were okay.

“I thank you, Mr. Hastings. I promise my lips are sealed about Mother. It’ll be our secret.” She winked. He hadn’t stopped glaring at her.

“I’m in yer pocket now, am I not?” He crossed his arms. She doubted he would fit in there with Wexford. She smiled beautifully before kicking Felicity into motion. Wexford rolled around in her pocket as they sailed across the yard and towards the hills beyond. He managed to climb partially out and get a look at their heading.

“Oi! Do you mind? My brains will be scrambled before we arrive,” he called out, barely heard over the wind. She pulled Felicity to a canter.

“I’m trying to get you there before I’m noticed missing. Nefarious deeds are one thing, running away is another.”

“Understood. Mayhap I can ride in the basket though? It seems a tad safer than rolling inside your pocket.” She set the basket down in front of her, wedged between her and the pommel, and let Wexford climb into it.

“Better?”

“Yes. I say, I’ve never ridden a horse before. Quite nice.” He looked out at the rolling hills as they rode on.

“I’ve never flown before,” she quipped. He turned to look at her.

“Well, I’m not sure Faerie wings would hold you up.” She laughed at the thought.

“Too bad. I’d have liked to see the country side from above the clouds.”

“Oh, I can’t go that high. Too cold.” He rubbed his tiny arms in feigned shivers.

“You’ve destroyed my dreams, Wexford. You could have lied.”

“Faeries don’t lie. It’s not something we know how to do.”

She mused on this. “Sounds nice.” They didn’t speak again but for him to give out directions. Eventually she made it to the borderlands of the Mendip Hills.

“Here is fine,” he said pointing to a giant oak. She slid down off Felicity, pulling the basket gently down.

“Will you be all right here by yourself?” She asked, setting him down onto the ground below the tree. He climbed out, brushed at his wool looking trousers before he turned to her.

“Who said I’m alone?” He looked up briefly. She looked up as well. Above them she could just make out a dozen or so twinkling lights fluttering in the leaves. One could almost mistake them for the glittering light of the sun through the canopy, but now that she knew what to look for she could make out the different colors of each little sparkling one. A wide grin split her cheeks as they danced to and fro.

“I see. Well, this is goodbye, is it?”

“Goodbye? No, never that. We say ‘Merry met until we meet again.’” He held out his hand. She knelt down and gave him her index finger. He shook it.

“Merry met until we meet again.” She smiled. “Do you need any help getting the…,” she started to ask but closed her mouth as the loaf was lifted up and carried by invisible hands to the top of the tree. “It looks like my work here is done.” She stood and brushed her skirt off.

“Keep up the nefarious deeds, Ali. You never know, you might be recruited by the Unseelie Court,” he said.

“I wish,” she replied as she walked back to her pony.

“Alison,” he called out. She turned back. “I owe you one.” He saluted her and then quickly disappeared. She day dreamed the whole way home about living and working in the Unseelie Court and all the mischief she could get into. Of course as soon as she trotted home Mrs. Bottom was waiting to scold her. It had been worth all the burned ears and extra lesson work.

As the years went on Wexford would occasionally stop by and give her ideas for different nefarious deeds that she had yet to enact and she would help with him with his key hiding and hair snatching. But as time progressed he stopped by less and less. Or maybe she had just grown too old to be able to see him. It saddened her but she told herself it was the way of things.

It wasn’t until her eighteenth birthday, on the day her father announced the man she was being forced to marry, that she heard from him again. After running upstairs in a fit of rage she found a note attached to a leather pouch sitting atop her bed. The scroll was tiny, with equally tiny script upon it. She lit three candles just to be able to read it. Eventually she made out the minuscule letters and their meaning.

_Ali, I know it has been many seasons since we’ve gotten into mischief together but I hope you haven’t forgotten. Inside the bag is the means to escape the fate your father would set for you. If you are brave enough to except it. I hope you are because it is my repayment for the help you have given me. Use it wisely and think of me often on your journey. Merry met until we meet again, -W_

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked down at the leather pouch. What could it be? Faerie dust came to mind. Perhaps he had given her the means to become a Fae and she could come live with him in the Unseelie Court. She laughed at the thought before lifting the bag and opening it. Not Faerie dust. That was too fanciful for practical Wexford. She jingled the leather pouch, guessing at the amount, but she could see enough glittering coin and rolled notes to get her to London and start a new life. She hugged the pouch to her chest and looked to the ceiling.

  
“Thank you, Wexford. I know you don’t like Thanks but you have it just the same.” She packed as quickly as she could, slipped silently from the house and made her way toward the stables. At her age she could saddle her own horse, no Stable Master required. As she rode off she thought she saw a shimmering light flickering behind her. She saluted it and continued on into the night. London might not be the Unseelie Court, but it was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is extremely welcome, especially on original stuff like this. I'll see how the feedback goes with this one and if it's good I might post other original pieces I've done.


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